


I've Felt the Heat of the Flames

by SpartanEra



Series: I See Fire [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Has Kids, Other, Portal - Freeform, Pre-journey relationship, They've been busy before the quest, Things change a lot, Time Travel, children everywhere, married, the whole shebang, things happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-10-19 01:27:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10629303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpartanEra/pseuds/SpartanEra
Summary: He heard her soft voice against the winds, and he had to know, “Why?” he softly asked as he looked into those hazel pools that have seen so much more than he could ever imagine, “Why do you do this?”She sighs, suddenly feeling the years bearing down on her. “My life has been long. My only family is dead, and my friends are gone. My home is nothing but a crumbled ruin now.” She took a breath and looked into his eyes, “You have a chance to live a life with your family. I want to make sure it stays that way even if I must lose my own in the process.”A different take on the Quest as well as a certain twist to everything we thought we knew.





	1. I've Felt the Heat of the Flames

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer! I do not own anything! No profit! This is my head spewing out things. 
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> Enjoy!

_“Oh, misty eye of the mountain below_

_Keep careful watch of my brothers' souls_

_And should the sky be filled with fire and smoke_

_Keep watching over Durin's sons”_

 

* * *

 

In the dark shadows of an alley, there stood a woman. “Get out of there, and stay out of sight,” The voice softly echoed down, “I won’t be able to join you just yet, so don’t wait for me.” She listened to the reply, “No…don’t tell him. Wait until I get there. Safety and Peace.”

The women ended the call and started to push a code of numbers into her device. “Rick? Yeah, I’m heading there right now, how you want this handled?” the woman stepped out of the shadows, “the information is accurate, correct? Good. I’ll take care of it. Peace, brother.”

With a sigh, the woman ended the call and ran a hand down her face. _I’m getting too old for this_ the woman thought to herself. With one more deep breath, the woman drew it back out, “Time to get to work.”

* * *

 

_“Now I see fire_

_Inside the mountain_

_I see fire_

_Burning the trees_

_I see fire_

_Hollowing souls_

_I see fire_

_Blood in the breeze_

_And I hope that you remember me”_

 

* * *

 

Paranoia was at a high. The man hurried along throughout his darkened apartment, constantly muttering, “Cannot take. It’s mine. Mine. Must hide. Hide! Before it’s here. Before it comes!”

He passed by his extensive collections of artifacts. The apartment rather extravagant, filled with various collections and expensive historic pieces ranging from the twelfth to the eightieth centuries. With a salary like his, it was amazing he could afford anything like this; although, with his employers, it was no surprise.

A loud noise erupted from the other room in the apartment. The man jumped, “Hide. Hide. Hide” his muttering turning into a frantic whisper. The footsteps creaked along the wooden floors of the apartment; the intruder drew nearer. Suddenly, it stopped; right at the closed doorway of the current room.

The man whimpered as the door handle slowly turned. With an audible click, the door squeaked as it was swung open. It was too dark for the man to see the figure that now stood in his doorway, but he knew who it was. He knew exactly why they were there, and he was not going to allow it. “No! No, you will not take this from me!” He exclaimed scrambling to the window.

“You do not understand its power,” a voice spoke, “You have become corrupted. This needs to end.”

“No, no! I’m studying it! I am learning its works!” he rebutted.

“No one can comprehend the power of that artifact. It has always been a mystery and it always will be.”

The man whimpered as it drew closer. “Stay back!” he threw open the window and thrust his hand out, holding a round silver object in his hand. “Stay back! Or I’ll drop it” he threatened. The person only paused for a second before starting its approach. “Don’t come any closer! I’ll let go and you will never see this again!” he threatened once more. His threats did nothing to the figure. As it got closer, he could feel his anxiety and fear rise up into his throat. “STOP!” he choked out, a pathetic sound.

The figure stopped and titled its head to the side in a curious manner. This makes the man pause. Why would it just stop? Wait-what is it doing? “Do you not understand the power it spills?” it spoke, the voice harsh against the quiet room, “the illusions it creates?” it took one more step closer to the man making him whimper once more, “or the death it partakes?”

“No!” the man panicked, pushing himself out the window, “No! It doesn’t do that-it cannot!” Almost in tears, the man tries to frantically escape.

“No,” the figure replies, “You are right-it cannot” The man stops and stills, looking confused ignoring the figure growing closer, “but you can.” With surprising speed, the figure reached out and grabbed a hold of the now glowing artifact causing the man to lean away. In retaliation, the man drew out a small dagger and stabbed deeply the figures arm. Blood spewed out from the wound.

Grounding its teeth, the figure let out an almost animalistic growl at the man and said, “You are nothing but a pawn to them-a tool! You mean nothing to them. I know you understand that.” The figure ignored the blood dripping down of its arm, “for why would you steal this artifact from them in the first place?”

The man looked in shock at the face in front of him. How could?-He made sure no one new! It was impossible! And any knowledge of this priceless piece had been buried and lost for hundreds of years. No one could have known…unless… “You were there? Weren’t you?” he whispered.

The lights from outside faintly illuminated a portion of its face revealing a slight smirk of the thin lips. “Now,” it drawled, “What gave me away?” It was teasing him! He knew it. But he couldn’t think straight anymore. He suddenly felt the sharp knife plunged into his stomach. The man let out a pained gasp as he started to sway. The figure quickly pulled the blade out with a slick wet sound, caught him, and slowly lowered him unto the ground.

“No!” he grounded out as he tasted the blood on his lips, “I didn’t mean-“

The Assassins stopped him before he finished, “No one ever does” he groaned out, tasting blood on his lips, “even those with good intentions.” As darkness edged into the edges of his eyes, he felt the life leave his body. His life blood spilled out in a pool around him. The man let out one more breath of life as darkness engulfed him completely. The last thing he heard before he fell was a faint prayer, “Requiescat in Pace.”

* * *

 

_“And if the night is burning_

_I will cover my eyes_

_For if the dark returns_

_Then my brothers will die_

_And as the sky is falling down_

_It crashed into this lonely town_

_And with that shadow upon the ground_

_I hear my people screaming out”_

_-I See Fire by Ed Sheeran_


	2. Is Too Much Sighing Bad For Your Health?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation and aftermath of her actions.   
> As well as a sneak peek into a certain Dwarf Prince's life.

_"Requiescat in pace."_

* * *

 

It poured that night.

The constant beating of the rain drowned out the noise of music coming from the nearby bars and clubs that littered the depths of the city. Wind howled as it thrashed the small water droplets into different directions. Thankfully, no hail had fallen, but it gave no relief to those who were caught by the needle-like feeling the storm had caused.  The streets were littered with trash and the like that blew with the vicious wind. Only a few stragglers dared to walk the storm filled streets as the elements tested their endurance.

Even with the wind and the rain of the storm howling through the metropolis, the city lived on. The people lived their lives. The workers did their jobs. Life continued on, and the remnants of the storm will be gone the next morning and soon forgotten like yesterday's news. 

This did not matter, however. It did not matter when a figure entered the streets like an actor on a stage. Pedestrians paid no mind. No one took notice of this newcomer. It did not take notice. Only their destination in mind. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.

The person walked through allies and crossed multiple streets to arrive at their destination. Climbing up the stairs, it reached a hand up and knocked three heavy knocks upon the door. By the last knock, the door creeped open to reveal a long corridor with a red carpet going down the middle. Fluorescent lights that hung from the ceiling swayed slightly as the, now revealed, hooded women walked upon the wooden floor boards.  

There were no decorations littering the hall, nor any doors.  Only a solitary steel door that contrasted against the red rug that laid beneath its steps. As she drew closer, the bolts and locks along the doorway released themselves; their sounds echoing thought the small hallway. The woman grasped the edges of the heavy steel door and with a mighty pull, heaved the door open and entered the new room. The door shut and locked back into place behind her, but the woman paid it no mind.

Reaching a gloved hand up to her hood, she pulled it down to reveal her short cut auburn hair pulled into a small bun at the base of her neck. With a hint of amusement and admiration in her golden brown eyes, she took observation of a new pile of books adding to the already growing tower of knowledge. These piles ranged in different sizes, all differing from the genre they centered on. For example, while one pile held historic texts another comprised science fiction. In between these stacks, a pathways snake themselves around like streets in a city. Depending on who you were, it was fairly easy to get lost in this room.

The man who owned this city of books had walked into an open path into her line of sight, ironically with a book in hand. It took a few seconds for him to notice her presence, "Ah! You're early!" He exclaimed excitedly, "Please, please make yourself comfortable." He gestured to his left, as she moved. The space was a makeshift workroom that encompassed a sofa couch and multiple tables with various tools and parts laid atop and around.  Walking up to one of the tables, the woman slipped off her pack and set it down upon it.

"So," he started, "how did it go?" He wrung his hands together in a nervous notion when she didn't respond. "Que?" Que continued to slowly unload the objects within the pack. Silence crept in making the man even more anxious. "Aquila?" He paused, "are you alright?"

He heard her sigh, "Rick," she paused, "no, it did not go well," she answered.

"What happened?" Rick asked.

Aquila turned to face Rick with an object of cloth held in her hands. She looked him in the eye and said, "I had to kill him."

Rick paled at her words. "What?"

The assassin let out another sigh as she walked towards him, "you heard me, and he left me no other choice."

"No other choice?!?" Rick regained his words. Que did not reply as she walked past him, towards the spare bedroom in the back. "Aquila! You should not have done that! Do you honestly realize how much work I have to do now? This isn't like your-"

"You did not see him!" Que retorted angrily as she wiped back at him; face contorted, "you didn't see him," she repeated her tone less firm, "Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I want to do this anymore? I actually want some peace, for once in my life!"

"But that is what we are fighting for! What we all are fighting for! For generations! Your brother-" Rick stopped as a hand smacked him right across the face.

Aquila pulled his face close to hers and quietly threaten him, "don't you ever bring my brother into this. I've wanted a normal life of my own for years. This war has consumed my entire being. It's all I know now and because of that, I can't have normalcy."

She turned and slammed the door leaving the stunned man behind her.

* * *

Aquila simply stared at its smooth golden surface. It occasionally glowed and dimmed in a rhythmic breath-like pattern. It was a curious little thing. It had many names, the artifact, the Apple, a Precursor artifact. In the end, people only cared for the power it held within.

It was curious, indeed. It absolutely fascinating how much power it is able withstand in such a small space. Its original origins are unknown only that it came from a civilization lost long ago. We call them Precursors or "the Ones Who Came Before." Ironically enough, certain Precursors have been able to live on through these artifacts, sanctuaries, and knowledge they leave behind. Appearing as a holographic figure, many people over the centuries have mistaken them for gods; describing them as light people or Divine beings.

But because of the knowledge that was left behind, blood was spilt, wars were fought, and lives were destroyed to have control of the powerful artifacts. For hundreds of years this war has been fought. Each generation has a chance to fight, to choose a side to fight for.  No matter, it all ends the same.

Aquila tensed when she heard the sound of the door opening and then once again closing. She didn’t face her new coming for she knew who it was already.

“I am sorry,” he started, “I shouldn’t have said that.” She did not respond. Rick let out a defeated noise and collapsed into the seat next to her. “Aquila listen,” he said placing his hands together as he leaned toward her, “You are not happy, I see that. And living as long as you have, with your kind of lifestyle can be overbearing for even the strongest and toughest of people.

Aquila chuckled bitterly under her breath, “I know you are just buttering me up, Rick.”

“You need to move on.”

“That was quick,” Aquila looked at him at his bluntness.

“Well,” he said scratching his neck, “that’s what you told me to do, right? No beating around the bush.”

She gave him a small smile, “True.”

“So do you think it’s possible?” he asked nervously.

“What’s possible?”

“Moving on?” And the smile fell and she looked back to the artifact.

“I don’t know,” she said, “I always feel like I don’t belong anywhere anymore. You know that I’ve been to many places in my travels, but there has never been a place where I could just be at home; at peace.” Que sagged into her chair, “I don’t want this anymore.” She admitted.

Her companion had neither response nor comfort to give his friend so he stood up, patted her on the shoulder and left her alone in the room with a muttered ‘see you at dinner.’

* * *

How long she sat there staring at the glowing sphere she didn’t know. Her internal clock didn’t help much either. She hadn’t turned any lights on her rush for isolation; it didn’t seem important at the time. And neither did her stomach as she heard her it rumbled for sustenance. Aquila thought if it was worth getting up for, but her stomach gurgling again made the decision for her.

Walking out of her bedroom, she made a beeline for the kitchen and immediately opened the fridge next to the sink searching for options. Multiple condiments started back at her as well as a few unidentified objects she was sure was spoiled and molded food. The smell that reached her sensitive nose made her scrunched her face up in disgust as she slammed the door closed. Aquila sighed once again as she abandoned the fridge in favor to find something more promising in the cabinets.

“It’s bad if you keep sighing like that, you know?” Rick commented from his position at the door. Que was searching the upper cabinets when he had spoken and did not find a morsel of food. Rick noticed and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I ran out of food yesterday. Sorry.” Aquila placed her arms on the counter in front of her and leaned forward, hanging her head at Rick.

The women pushed herself away from the counter and turned towards the door walking back into the main room. She grabbed her keys and wallet as she called back to her friend, “Let’s go, then.”

 Rick, who had followed her, looked at her confused, “Go where?” he asked.

“I saw a new diner just down the street on my way here. It’ll have to do.” She did not allow him to reply as she walked out the door once more only allowing him to snatch a jacket and scramble after her.

* * *

 

The walk to the diner was reasonably short and they were both seated quickly in a booth near a window. The red seats squeaked when they sat showing just how new this place was. The restaurant was fairly empty at this hour with only a few people seated at the counter and a couple near the back obviously on a date. Pictures where spotted on the walls showing various types of family gatherings and famous or remember able events that has come to pass.

The duo was waited upon swiftly, with a, “Hello, my name is Cassie and I will be your waitress for this evening.”

For the rest of the night, they talked what they could about the happier times and tales of rebellion late into the night, until store closing. For the first time in years, Aquila, the undying assassin, slept unburdened that night.

* * *

If Thorin didn’t know better, he would have thought his brother would be the responsible sibling for once. But Thorin did know better, and Frerin was pulling his sister along into the chaos. Just what he needed.

His first clue was the crash of pottery. His second clue was the giggling laughter that was heard immediately after. And lastly, the yelling out of the head cook that sounded roughly similar to his siblings names. Thorin sighed, placing his head in his hand at the table. He didn’t know what he was going to do with them sometimes. He suddenly felt so much older than he actually was.

He was supposed to be working on letters of correspondences with the neighboring city of Dale. However with the chaos happening through the halls of Erebor, he didn’t think they would get done this day. He hoped his father and grandfather would understand his predicament, as the growing piles of paperwork were for his, “kingly training,” as Frerin had kindly put it. _Lucky Dwarf_ , Thorin muttered under his breath.

At only the young age of nineteen, Thorin was only recently starting his responsibilities of being in line to the throne of Erebor. But personally, Thorin thought it was to just keep him busy and to lighten their own work load because all he has been given so far was paperwork. And who likes to do paperwork? _No one_ , Thorin thought to himself.

The door to his chambers was suddenly blown open and quickly slamming shut, pulling him out of his musings. Two small figures hunched against the door giggling at each other confirmed his suspicions.

His sister, Dis, giggled once again and Thorin glanced down at her. Both siblings were covered in flour and, what looked like to him, eggs splattered randomly. A particular piece was sitting mixed in with Frerin’s hair that dripped upon his face where it struck against his forehead. Dis looked in a much better state than her brother but smears of jelly were wiped upon her face and the front of her dress. _That would explain why it was the cook this time_ , Thorin mused.

“What did you two do this time?” said Thorin with a grinned which quickly grew in size when he saw them jump to the sound of his voice.

Frerin was the first to respond once they’ve noticed his presence, “Oh you know, the usual.” He stated casually with a smirk, leaning against the door.

“With the head cook?” Thorin asked and was pleased when they sheepishly looked down on their soiled clothing. “Mother is not going to be pleased.” The siblings now looked horrified. Thorin chuckled at them and moved over to his chest by the bed, pulling out a tunic and leggings and promptly throwing them out to his brother. “Here,” he said, “go wash up and put these on.”

“What about me?” his sister voiced in her small voice. She looked up at him innocently, with those brown orbs she inherited from their mother. “What am I supposed to wear?”

Already thinking ahead, Thorin reached into the chest once more and pulled out a small green dress, holding it out to her. “What about this?” he asked and was pleased to see her eyes widen and smile at him. Quickly snatching the dress from his hands, she promptly ran out of his room with a, “thank you.”

His brother chuckled at the display, “Why do you have this?”

Thorin straightened from his crouch facing him, “Because I know better,” he placed a hand on his chin, “and because I like to stay on mother’s good side.” The brothers laughed. It’s going to be a long day ahead, indeed.


End file.
